only in autumn

The white afternoon light sank down low, and i stepped out from the worn prints on the track behind my house. i wanted to go and see something that i had only ever seen once in the Autumn 2 years ago. I followed some deer trails under the pine trees and across a frozen creek. clumsily falling thigh deep through the snow trying to navigate the delicate hoof prints. I climbed the small hill which is crested by a beautiful twisted dwarf cypruss pine and wandered past its marbled branches into a deeper forest of craggy birch. The land was familiar, its shapes, undulations, the angle at which the fence ran down into the trees, but so unfamiliar in the same way, like feeling your way around your bedroom in the dark, you know where things are suppose to be - but you still can't be sure.. i slipped through the fence and broke free of the trees into a small clearing where i had stood 2 years ago in October, marvelling at the golds and browns and greens that only autumn in Norway can deliver. Nestled in the lower corner of the feild is a small log shelter, half enveloped by snow now and dark inside. There is something comforting and very personal about finding a place that i'm sure only a handful of people have been to in the 2 years that have past. It isn't hours away, It isn't even very far from my neighbourhhod, but it seems to remain isolated from everyday life, it avoids attention and time and passes fluidly through the seasons without resistance or reminiscence. It is just there, beautifully.